


Stress Relief

by GrindingGears



Series: Building Bridges [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Adrenaline, Denial of Feelings, Desk Sex, Desperation, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Inspired by Art, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Restraints, Unacknowledged Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 03:38:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13561971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrindingGears/pseuds/GrindingGears
Summary: After a dangerous mission, Jazz has energy he needs to burn and seeks out his preferred stress relief aide. Inspired bySchandbringer's comic.





	Stress Relief

**Author's Note:**

> A small scene set before another piece I'm working on. The dialogue is from Schandbringer's comic, linked in the summary.

From this angel, he didn't have much say in how his body moved. That, as most of the encounter, was under Prowl's control. He didn't pull against the makeshift tow cable keeping his arms bound behind his back. There was no need. He wanted them there. The binds were more a reminder of what he craved than a real attempt at restraint.

His engine was still running hot. It had been since his tires met asphalt in the rushed escape from the facility. With what little movement he could achieve he pressed his thighs together, desperate for some friction to ease the ache between his legs.

"Tsk," Prowl scolded from above him, forcing his chest harder into the desk he was bent over. Using a knee, and meta-cycles of experience as a police officer back on Cybertron, Prowl spread his legs wide.

As cool air rushed in to replace the warmth of his heated thighs, he could feel just how hot his panel was. When Prowl rubbed a digit over the cover, he couldn't wait for the stern mech to hit the manual release, sending an internal command for the panel to retract instead.

"Seesh, Jazz..." Prowl quipped as his digits met the soaked mesh of his valve. "And you're saying you came to see me right after returning?"

"Y... Yeah. Why?" Jazz asked nervously at Prowl's reprimanding tone. When the digits at the rim of his valve disappeared, he started to get anxious.

"Because you're wet like you've been doing nothing but self servicing all night," Prowl chastised him. "Are you that desperate?"

Jazz couldn't stop the laugh that escaped his voice box at the dishonesty. Was _that_ what this was about? They both knew Prowl wanted this as much as he did. Prone and wanting was the pragmatist's favorite position for him. But tonight Jazz had no patience for the uptight mech's need to pussyfoot around his arousal with performative disapproval. He wanted Prowl and he wanted him _now_ , not after a cycle of teasing indulgence.

"C'mon Prowl, don't do that." Jazz hoped that hadn't sounded as desperate as it felt.

"Do what?" Prowl responded, confused by Jazz's break in script. But with the servo returning to rub as his thigh (in a way that was very much _not enough_ ), Jazz figured his call out couldn't have offended the prickly mech too much.

"The whole shtick. Not tonight!" Jazz elaborated, panting. "Don't pretend like you don't get excited when I arrive like that!" he teased, desperate to get the tactician to put _something_ inside of him.

Instead, Prowl stilled above him, the servo on his thigh coming to a stop. Jazz gave the strategist a moment to revise the night's plan; but if Prowl was going to leave him high and dry now over a refusal to play that particular game, Jazz _was_ going to hold it against the mech.

All thoughts of revenge were instantly driven from his processor however, as Prowl easily seated a hot spike fully in Jazz's sopping valve.

"Pff. You're right," Prowl conceded, making Jazz cry out at the steady rhythm thrusting into his welcoming passage. "But what the hell kind of mission was it that got you this riled up?"

"Ahh!! N-not the mission itself!" Jazz struggled to get the words out between panting moans at Prowl's forceful thrusts. "Just the thrill, the danger. I missed the action!" When Prowl's pace didn't alter, Jazz took it as cue to keep talking, "And driving so fast again... it just did things to me...!"

"In that case, Jazz, I fully agree with you," Prowl breathed, leaning into his audio. "You definitely need to go on missions more often."

Jazz bit his lip at the comment. Primus did Prowl know how to use words to his advantage. At this rate, he wasn't going to be able to last long. Between his bound arms, the pressure of Prowl's weight pushing him into the desk, the hot spike relentlessly pressing into his valve, and now innuendos being spoken just over a whisper in that husky tone; Jazz's climax was coming faster than he could control.

Fueled by the euphoria that had been consuming him since the drive back, then relentlessly stoked by the mech above him, his overload rocketed through him like Omega Supreme on a free fall planetary reentry. But the release did little for his greedy engines, still running hot with the day's excitement. Prowl worked him through a delirious second overload before he was able to come down from the night's exhilarated high.

Prowl's release was soon to follow, pressing deep into Jazz's well used valve before slumping limp over the bound mech. After a moment to catch himself, Prowl reached up to remove the cable keeping Jazz's arms restrained. With his servos free, Jazz took his chance to flip on the desk, coming face to face with the mech above him.

Taken aback by the sudden movement, Prowl stared down at him. When the tactician didn't move away, Jazz took this as a sign to continue with his plan. Before rationality could return from the post-overload haze and tell him it was a bad idea, he leaned up and captured Prowl's mouth in a kiss. As Prowl's lips opened in surprise, Jazz used this advantage to delve his glossa into the other mech's mouth and began an exploration.

They'd never done this before. It hadn't seemed appropriate, unnecessary to the play they put on in their sessions. But tonight Jazz wanted more. He wanted this. He wanted to know how Prowl tasted, to push inside the stern mech and find something no one else could.

Jazz reached up to wrap his arms around Prowl, to bring their frames closer together. But before his servos could meet living metal, his senses kicked in telling him something was wrong. Prowl wasn't responding; he hadn't returned the kiss.

Withdrawing at the realization, Jazz felt a knot forming in the bottom of his tank. But as soon as their lips parted, Prowl raced after him with an newfound passion. He gladly reciprocated the enthusiastic response, pulling Prowl flush against his frame. The two lay together like that for a while, fighting a fierce battle of mouths and glossa. When they finally broke apart, both were panting to cool their quickly reheating frames.

"Yes," Prowl murmurs against his lips, a servo sliding back down towards Jazz's thigh. "You definitely need to go on missions more often," he repeated his earlier comment before joining their mouths once again.


End file.
